


Human

by Xekstrin



Category: RWBY
Genre: Breathplay, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 09:31:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5738503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xekstrin/pseuds/Xekstrin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During an attack on Beacon, Weiss and Jaune find the barriers between them melting as they discover common ground in a simple fact: They have to take care of each other, because no one else will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Human

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during some kind of “Attack On Beacon” scenario I suppose. They’re both twenty and Jaune is significantly less useless but Weiss doesn’t always acknowledge it.

There was a lull in the fighting, the teams broken up into unequal forces. Briefly, he remembered Ozpin telling him once— that’s why initiation was randomized. One day you’ll be out there on the field all alone and desperate. If you’re lucky enough to find someone else in the wild, you damn well better be able to work together, no matter who they are.

In the end, you’ll only ever have two partners against the Grimm, Mr. Arc, Ozpin told him, so long ago. Everyone, and no one.

He didn’t understand until much, much later.

There was no one else, out there on the front line. No alliances, no politics, no friends, no family. It all melted away against the force of the Grimm’s unending, searing hatred. There were no hunstmen or huntresses. Just humanity. 

"Give me that," Weiss said, taking his sword out of his trembling hands and wiping it down. "Keep it clean or you’ll cut yourself in an accident and die of sepsis, idiot."

He shakingly agreed.

Weiss’ eyes seemed to glow in the darkness, fae-like and too bright. No emotion registered on her face, straight lipped and still on high alert, ready for another wave of attacks. She’d lost her jacket somewhere in the fighting, sweat and blood stains on her chest. “Are we still on call?” she wondered, nodding down to the scroll blinking at his hip. Hers had broken. 

In the ruins of their old dorm room, he sat down on a tattered cushion that had been ripped out of some piece of furniture. Overhead, the night sky shone from the cracks in the ceiling, stars blotted out from the smoke of a thousand bonfires. Somewhere, something burned bright enough to keep most of the night at bay. “We’re fine for now,” he said. ”They want us to sleep. Or rest.” He doubted any of them could sleep with so much fear screaming in the back of their minds, adrenaline still searing white hot through his veins. “Other teams are doing guard duty.”

Noticing the battery on his scroll was dying, and none of the wall outlets were working, he used an old trick to charge up the waning device. Jamming a thumb into the charger slot, he winced and bit his lip, a jolt of focused aura pumping extra juice into it.

"Clever," Weiss said, handing back Crocea Mors. "Where’d you learn that?"

His mouth felt dry. Would any of the fountains still work? “Pyrrha,” he said. “Wish she was here.”

Weiss’ eyes flashed in sympathy, once. She had someone important somewhere else too, Jaune knew. “She’s with Ruby, so don’t worry.” She shook her ponytail back over her shoulder with a careless flick of her head. “She’ll be fine. Those two will take care of each other far better than we can. Worry about yourself.”

There was a jump in that logic, somewhere. It took him a moment to gather it, wind coherent thoughts together. He was so tired. “I can’t worry about myself. We have to take care of each other too,” he said, resting his head back against the cool wall. Maybe like this, he could sleep. “I’m not much, but I’ll do what I can to protect you.”

She barked in laughter at that, startling him into wakefulness. His grip clutched reflexively over the hilt of his sword. “What?” he asked, sounding petulant. “God, why do you have to be so mean? I’m serious.”

"I know you are," she said, just a hint of apology in her voice as she sat down next to him. A little groan left her mouth as she relaxed, leaning to the side to rest her head on his shoulder. "I just have a sick sense of humor." And then, miraculously, "Sorry."

She took his free hand, squeezing it with an intensity he didn’t think would ever be directed at him. But he understood why she did it when she relaxed. Their palms pressed together, her hand all splayed out. It rested in his like a little Russian doll. Her fingertips barely made it to the first knuckles on his fingers. Weiss looked at it too, with a gaunt hunger he felt deep in his soul. She needed that return to the familiar, away from the shadowy hordes outside their doors. The shape was what counted. Human hands. Human touch.

He crushed it in a tight grip, his hand enveloping hers.That’s what he liked about her. So struck he was, looking around the crowd of huntsmen and huntresses to be on their first day. And seeing her there, so small, delicate looking. How could someone so tiny be so vicious, so ruthless and full of rage and power?

Weiss laughed again. 

"I said that out loud, didn’t I," he muttered under his breath, and then his heart jolted as she shifted to sit on his lap, knees on either side of his hips.

The sharp lines of her cheekbones cast strands shadow over her face. “Is that really the only reason you like me better than her?” she wondered, her eyes striking him to the core. They seemed to be the only light in the darkness, her aura swimming just underneath, ready to be activated at a moment’s notice. “You’re such a shallow boy,” she chided, under her breath. Her hand rested on his chest plate, fingers curling underneath one of the leather straps. “But that’s fine.” She pulled him closer. “That’s fine.”

He felt her lips on his, heard the scratch of his stubble. Her tongue flicking against him, just once. But it didn’t feel real until she did it again, more forceful this time. Crocea Mors fell down, his hands grasping at her bare thighs. Soft, giving. Human. Ah, human.

Her hands went down, between them. Gripping him through the fabric of his pants, and he hardened at the first touch, faster than he could even believe.

"Don’t," he whispered hoarsely.

She stopped.

Sitting back to look at him, her face in neutral, her eyes lost some of their glow. “You don’t want to?” she said, carefully stiff and polite, out of the mood for this setting.

"You don’t want to," he said. "Not with me."

He wished Weiss wouldn’t laugh when he wasn’t telling jokes. 

Grabbing him by his chin, Weiss turned it this way and that, eyes narrowing, smiling thinly. “You don’t tell me what I want,” she said, harshly. “I tell you what I want. Do you understand? Don’t ever presume to do otherwise, ever again.”

He nodded, throat bobbing. “But—”

"Yes or no."

"—But I don’t have a condom," he finished, face lighting up.

Rolling her eyes, she took his hand, pulling it to her bicep and flexing slightly. He felt something there, just underneath the skin. Metal against the flesh. He struggled to understand, before the word came unbidden, some old conversation he’d had with one of his many female friends. An implant? “Really,” she said, letting him go. “Do you think a huntress would ever risk getting so incapacitated without fully intending to? Use your head.”

"Oh," he said quietly. He was glad, more relieved than he could say. He was afraid she was going to say something terrible, like we’re all going to die tomorrow anyway.

She kissed him again— ah god human yes human— and he had no idea what he was doing, but she did. Or at least she knew herself, using his hand selfishly instead of her own, crouched over with her head buried into his shoulder when she couldn’t focus long enough to kiss him anymore. When she gasped, her mouth so close to his ear, all the hairs on the back of his neck stood up straight as an electric shock. He couldn’t see anything, his other arm slung around her bare shoulders to hold her close to him. The dress slid up past her thigh, but underneath was as much a mystery to him as it had ever been, even as she shifted to push his fingers inside her.

She liked this.

Not him. Never him. 

But she liked this. Him touching her. A helpless groan built in the back of her throat, audible no matter how savagely she bit down on his shoulder. For a moment the training wheels came off and she let his hand go and he didn’t know what to do. The fabric of her underwear hadn’t seemed so limiting before, but now it constricted all of his movements. So he tried his best to keep to the rhythm she was using even as her hands slipped around his throat and squeezed.

A pleasured wheeze hissed out of his throat and she stopped, hands whipping back to her chest. Shock evident on her face, she apologized and apologized until it was his turn to tell her not to worry, not to tell him what he wanted. 

He didn’t even understand why he liked it. She was strong enough to truly throttle him if she needed to. But as he shimmied down his jeans just past his hips she did it again and all he could do was moan and lie back. Her nails dug viciously into the back of his neck as she took him into herself, scorching hot and smooth as her fencing on the battlefield.

For once, it’s not awkward. Or maybe he’s just not horribly self conscious enough to realize it’s awkward, black tendrils creeping into the edges of his vision. Short bursts of air escaped through his nose as he clenched his jaw and tried not to come until Weiss did. It helped that he was still exhausted down to the bone, still waiting for his scroll to beep and let him know he was needed on the front lines again.

Just as he was wondering which would come first, her orgasm or him blacking out, she let him go and cried into his neck, so loud and obvious it couldn’t be anything else. And there was no way she’d fake it for his sake. He breathed fully, at last, the oxygen high and Weiss clamping around his dick and rocking hard and fast against him causing him to explode with sensation.

She breathed heavily, voice ragged as she sat back on her heels, whole body trembling and looking satisfied with herself. Her hair fell loose across her shoulders; looking down at his hand, he saw her hair piece clenched in his fist. He must have ripped it free at one point, but he couldn’t remember when.

"…Thanks," she said, chest heaving. 

He swallowed. “No problem. Need—?”

"I’m fine," she said, curt, but not unkind. "Are you okay?"

He felt himself getting soft inside her, a little uncomfortable at that point as he wondered when he could wriggle free without hurting her feelings. “Fine,” he mumbled. He remembered how dry his throat and mouth had been before they started; it hadn’t gotten any better. “Thirsty.”

She laughed once more, but this one didn’t feel mean. “Ah, gross,” she said after achingly pulling away from him.

"You started it."

"I know."

Very gently, he did his best to put her hair piece back in. She closed her eyes and let him, enjoying his touch. “I’m going to see if I can find some place to clean up,” she said, sparing him just one last kiss on the inside of his wrist before getting up.

At the doorway, she glanced over her shoulder at him with a wry smile. “If I find a water bottle, I’ll bring that back for you too,” she said. 

Of course.

They had to take care of each other.


End file.
